


Love and Freedom

by BuzzCat



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, sorry about the spelling errors that are most likely here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: When James leaves to hunt Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth searches her heart and is surprised at what she finds





	Love and Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ColorblindCity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorblindCity/gifts).



Elizabeth stood on the docks, watching _The Interceptor_ prepare to make way. It was barely dawn but already the docks were swarming with sailors. Elizabeth had never been an early riser, but today was a special day on Port Royal. Today she would wave farewell to her fiancé as he sailed off in pursuit of pirates.

“I apologize for the rash actions of Mr. Turner,” James had said to her. The day after Jack’s escape, Will had left as well, leaving her with a letter announcing his intention to follow Jack in his life of piracy. Elizabeth couldn’t deny that she was a little jealous of Will, to be able to pick up and leave just like that. Will was gone forever and Elizabeth could only hope to never see him again, as it would undoubtedly be the day Will died a pirate’s death. James had arrived that afternoon, to inform her of his intention to pursue _The Black Pearl_.

“It is not your apology to make, Commodore.”

“Of course, Miss Swann.” She pretended not to chafe at the formal address. She hadn’t been Miss Swann to him in private since she was a girl, when he’d only addressed her as such to make her smile.

“It is Elizabeth, sir. I think that in light of our impending nuptials we can dispense with this particular formality.”

“As you say, Elizabeth. Of course, you must call me James.”

“As you say, James.” Then an awkward silence descended on the two. Elizabeth fought the urge to fidget with the sleeve of her gown. James cleared his throat,

“Elizabeth, I confess that our nuptials are the second matter of business I wish to discuss,” he paused and when Elizabeth gave no sign to stop him, he continued, standing at attention and looking so very much like he had on the parapet all those weeks ago, “I understand that your word was given under a misunderstanding. It is entirely possible that in the course of our conversation, I understood your meaning to be that the proposal you accepted was the one of marriage, when in fact the proposal you intended was the proposal of…of a rescue mission for Mr. Turner,” he finally looked her in the eye, “Do you agree, Miss Swann?”

Elizabeth was shocked. She barely kept her jaw from dropping at what James was saying. This man, this brilliant and kind man, was offering her freedom. They both knew exactly what she had said that day when Will’s life hung in the balance, but he was giving her an out. Words from her time with pirates echoed in her head, ‘take what you can, give nothing back’. Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but then she saw the look on his face. The navy had taught James the value of an emotionless face, and he was able to school his features rather well. But after knowing the man her entire adult life, Elizabeth possessed a sharp enough eye to see that his heart was breaking. And beneath the military façade, Elizabeth saw a wretched man, broken and hurting. He was offering her freedom at the price of his own misery. For the first time, it occurred to her that his original offer of marriage might not have been entirely without feeling.

And besides, perhaps it had nothing to do with her specifically at all. Port Royal was not kind to men who broke engagements. An engagement to a commodore in the Royal Navy would promise security and protection, a life free from hardship. If he abandoned her now (and that is exactly how people would see them), he would be known as untrustworthy to every family in the port. Fathers and mothers would steer their daughter clear of him and he would be whispered about through the port until all of his good qualities were cast into the shadow of ‘in spite of what he did’. Elizabeth could not have that on her conscience. She stood and looked him in the eye,

“I think what I said aboard _The Interceptor_ was quite clear, James. I have accepted your proposal of marriage. I will be an accomplishment you have achieved.” James’s brow furrowed at her strange reference, but he still grinned like he hadn’t seen sunlight in days and Elizabeth herself had rolled back the clouds. She stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to James’s cheek, whispering, “This is a mess of my own making. For the sake of you and your character, I will see it through.” Elizabeth looked down and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. By looking at his hand she didn’t see as his heart shattered on his face. He swallowed around the boulder in his throat and by the time Elizabeth had stepped back, he had once again schooled his features into a mask of propriety,

“Thank you, Mis—Elizabeth. Your gesture is much appreciated.” He bowed and left. Elizabeth watched him go with the unsettling feeling she had done something terribly wrong.

 

That was three days ago. James had only visited once since, to confirm that they would be wed upon his return. Now, Elizabeth stood on the dock to bid farewell. The rest of the crew was good-byeing their loved ones, and James had only her to see him off. In that moment, Elizabeth wished deeply for someone, anyone, else to be there. James Norrington was a rare sort of man, even she could acknowledge that. How was no one else here?

Elizabeth was pulled out of her thoughts when the man himself suddenly appeared before her. He was in his uniform and Elizabeth was once again struck by how dashing he looked, and how much more dashing he could look without that ridiculous wig.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Swann. I appreciate that the early hour is inconvenient for your schedule.” Elizabeth and James both repressed a smile at that. Elizabeth as a rule despised mornings, a habit she’d picked up as a child and had yet to outgrow. It made her smile, to see this hint of the James she used to know so very well, this teasing man so often hidden behind his position.

“Well I had to come wish my oldest friend farewell, and seeing as the tide has been so inconsiderate in its timing…” she trailed off. James could only look at her, and Elizabeth felt herself grow serious, “I shall miss you, James.” She stepped forward and brought a gloved hand up to cup his cheek, “Come home safely.” For one brief shining moment, James let himself pretend she had said ‘come home to me’. Then the moment was over. He nodded to her,

“I will.” With a bow, he was gone. Elizabeth waved as the ship left harbor and she was surprised to find that she truly would miss him.

 

 

It was only a couple of days before Elizabeth was reminded of how terribly boring Port Royal could be. Without Will and James for distraction, Elizabeth found herself entirely suffused in boredom. Her father kept trying to distract her with anything that could hold her attention. Elizabeth knew he worried and she had certainly given him good reason. His only child, kidnapped by pirates and spending months at sea with ruffians only to come home and be abandoned by fiancé and friend. He watched her stare out the window, watching the sea and missing someone, thought even he could not say which of the two men weighed on her mind more.

In truth, Elizabeth was missing three things, not two: Will, James, and the ocean. Between her discussion of terms with Barbossa that night so long ago and her return to Port Royal, Elizabeth had spent more time at sea than any other time in her life combined. The crossing from England was close, but in truth she barely remembered it. This adventure, however…every second was burned into her memory. The feel of Will’s hands on hers, James’s expression when she accepted his proposal, the sound of waves all around her. If she closed her eyes now, Elizabeth could pretend she was still on the open water, surrounded by friends and enemies and alive for the first time in her life. To call Port Royal death would be a bit dramatic, but at times it certainly felt accurate.

As she pondered the water, Elizabeth also thought on the men who had left her behind. Will, for a life of piracy, and James, in the name of duty. Neither cause sat well with Elizabeth. She wasn’t sure who she was more furious with. Will had been her friend ever since she’d found him in the shipwreck. In their youth, they’d had a brief romantic interlude, before he and Elizabeth both realized they worked well as friends and terribly as courters. The fact Will had left her with only a letter stung. But then again, when Elizabeth had first boarded _The Black Pearl_ she’d left him with less. But that had been what was supposed to be a meeting, while this was undoubtedly a final goodbye. If Elizabeth ever saw him again, he’d be in the hangman’s noose and she couldn’t bear to see that.

And then there was the man who’d have to put him there: Commodore James Norrington. He occupied more of Elizabeth’s thoughts than she had expected him to. It was strange to think of him as her fiancé. She’d known him for so long that thoughts of him as her husband had obviously crossed her mind, but she’d put them away with other childhood fantasies as she grew older. When she had first arrived in Port Royal, it had been a game to her. A young girl of twelve, imagining what it would be like to have a husband. At the time, her visions had been rather idealistic, coming home to a loving husband after a long day of sailing and exploring. As she grew older and learned that it was the man who went sailing and the woman who was expected to stay behind, Elizabeth had been significantly less enchanted with the concept. But by then, her daydreams about marriage were of a much less innocent variety.

She would spy on the docks whenever she could sneak away, watching the men with curious eyes. One time she had seen a sailor in only his trousers before her chaperone had whisked her away for needlepoint or some such. As she was chastised for running off, Elizabeth hadn’t been able to help but wonder what James looked like beneath the pomp and circumstance that his position dictated.

When he had first asked for her hand, amidst the process of slowly blacking out, Elizabeth had been beyond shocked. She had originally tried to put James out of her mind because he seemed to have put her out of his. As she had gone from girl to woman, James had stopped visiting as often and had found more and more excuses to leave whenever she did have the chance to speak to him. Eventually, Elizabeth stopped trying. She could take a hint and would not be like some of the foolish girls she saw in town, aimlessly mooning after boys who would never have them. Then to have this man who had—well, if not _scorned_ , then at least _avoided_ —her for years turn around and propose…She’d almost been grateful for the distraction of pirates. But now, now there was no distraction. Now, tragically, she had all the time in the world to think about the enigma of James Norrington.

As the days of waiting turned to weeks without any word of him, Elizabeth began parsing through her thoughts on her fiancé.

Yes, she would marry him. He was a man of honor, a brave and respectable man who was kind enough to accept her even after she’d bartered her hand to save another man’s (a friend’s) life.

Yes, she did miss him. Terribly. Before whatever strange rift between them had appeared, he had made Port Royal fun. Reasoned with her father when his worry became too constricting. Kept her secrets when she was caught covered in sand with hands full of sea life from exploring. It wasn’t something she’d noticed when Will was around to distract her, but Elizabeth had been missing James for years. And it was time she had him back.

Elizabeth stood from her window seat, determination in the lines of her shoulders and the firm set of her mouth. If James refused to come home until he’d caught Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth would be dead and gone before his return. If he would not come to her, she would go to him. And if it required sailing away from Port Royal, never to return…she’d miss her father, but it was worth the freedom the endless horizon promised her.

Elizabeth walked to the door of her room but before she could open it, it flew open of its own accord. Her father stood there, sorrow in his eyes,

“Elizabeth…there has been word of the Commodore.”

 

Elizabeth wandered through town, moving only with the vaguest awareness of her surroundings. She’d left a note for her father about going for a walk and snuck out, stealing a servant’s shirt and trousers and tucking her hair into her hat. When dressed as a boy, she was paid no attention, and that was exactly what Elizabeth wanted.

James was gone. In his foolishness, he’d tried to hunt _The Black Pearl_ in a hurricane. Through the hurricane. It had destroyed his ship, his crew. There were few survivors and none of them the man she needed. The man she…the man she cared for. Any other word would be to painful even to think. But it was true. As Elizabeth had waited, she’d found more and more that she had loved James Norrington. When he’d proposed to her, all of her childhood dreams had come flooding to life and Elizabeth had been startled to find that she did indeed lo— _care for_ James. It was such a constant in her life, she had never questioned her attraction as anything other than mere attraction. But the more she thought on it, the more she realized she had never cared for another man as much as she cared for James, not even close. And now he was dead.

Someone rushed by Elizabeth, knocking into her shoulder and bringing Elizabeth back to her surroundings with a thump. She was surprised to find herself standing outside a tavern. Sound poured out the window, the sound of men drinking and laughing. Right then, Elizabeth knew that was exactly what she needed. A place so loud and uproarious she could forget what felt suspiciously like a breaking heart.

Elizabeth stepped into the tavern and looked around. It was as packed as she’d expected. In the corner, she saw a couple Navy men who looked familiar. With a start, she realized they were the other men who had shipped out with James. The survivors. Some macabre sense of curiosity drew her to their table. A desire to hear about her fiancé’s last days. As she approached, however, she saw one break off from the group and lean against the wall, retching with too much alcohol. He seemed familiar, though he was the filthiest and drunkest of the lot. As surreptitiously as she could, Elizabeth stepped closer to the drunk man. He threw his head back, drinking down the rest of his bottle, and in his profile Elizabeth recognized the filthy man.

It was James.

She rushed forward, putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to make him look at her,

“James, you’re here! You’re alive,” she whispered. James threw his bottle to the floor and it shattered at their feet. He wiped away the drops of rum clinging to his mouth,

“Get out of here, boy,” he slurred. Elizabeth finally dragged his face to hers, finally looked him in the eye so he could see the tears in hers,

“James, it’s me. It’s Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?” he said, staggering back. Elizabeth desperately tried to keep him upright and only just succeeded, “You weren’t supposed to know. No, you can’t be here, you’re supposed to marry some fine upstanding Navyman who can keep you safe and happy.”

“That fine upstanding Navyman is you, James, you utter fool,” Elizabeth said. She’d never had much patience with drunks, let alone drunks who tried to fake their death. Elizabeth knew they couldn’t have this conversation, not right now. James needed to be sober before she could figure out whatever terrible plan he’d had and talk him out of it. Elizabeth slung his arm around her shoulder and led/dragged him out the door, ignoring his futile attempts to grab another bottle of rum as they passed the barkeep. She knew they couldn’t make it back to the Governor’s Mansion and even if they did, there’s no way she could get James inside without her father finding out. Running out of options and strength (carrying a drunk sailor was no easy feat), Elizabeth slowly made her way to the docks. There were patrols about, but once they recognized James’s clothes as one of their own, they looked the other way. Elizabeth managed to sit him down, leaning him against a couple of barrels. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do until James sobered up. Elizabeth wasn’t surprised to see that as soon as he was sitting down, he passed out from the alcohol. Elizabeth sat beside him, readjusting her hair under her hat. The sun was setting and she hoped her father wasn’t worrying too much. She had left a note after all.

But that line of thought was only a distraction from the man passed out beside her. What on Earth had he been thinking? Elizabeth settled in, content to wait until he woke up. As she sat, she closed her eyes. The stale stench of filth and rum, the sound of the ocean lapping at the edges of the ships moored at the dock, the feel of the wood beneath her feet…nostalgia swept over Elizabeth. She missed the ocean. She missed sailing. She missed freedom.

 

By the time James opened his eyes, the sun was already rising. Elizabeth had dozed off and on through the night, never leaving James’s side. Despite the hard wooden floor, the scent of the ocean and the sound of the water made it the best sleep she’d had in ages. Elizabeth was already awake when James began to stir, slowly opening his eyes to the bright light and then slamming them shut. He groaned with the hangover Elizabeth had seen men suffer before. She raised an eyebrow,

“And what problems, pray tell, did you think drinking and faking your death would solve? Because I’ve had the entire night to determine your motives, and yet they elude me.”

“’lizabeth,” his voice sounded rough, like dry leaves, “what…how…”

“Why, James. Why did you do it.” Though it was a question, her voice was curiously flat as she asked. James cautiously opened one eye to look at her, braving the bright light. He frowned,

“Why are you dressed as a boy?”

“That’s not the question, Commodore!” Elizabeth said. She almost stood up in frustration, but she quickly remembered that there were bound to more patrols on the docks by now and the fewer questions they asked about why the Governor’s daughter was sitting on the docks with a hungover man who was supposed to be dead, the better. Elizabeth hissed at him, trying to keep her voice controlled, if not her temper, “The question is why you faked your death. My father told me you were dead!”

“Elizabeth, I was—“

“No, I’m not done yet. I had to wait weeks, you can at least wait until I’m done. You left!”

“I had—“

“I’m not talking about when you went after Jack, that was duty and even if I don’t like it, I can understand it. I’m talking about before,” the fire went out of her and Elizabeth tried to run a hand through her hair, stopped by the hat, “we were friends, James. Good friends. And then one day, we weren’t. Until you asked me to marry you, I didn’t realize you’d even thought of me in years.”

“Elizabeth, how could I not think of you?” Despite the raging hangover, James slowly sat up until they were face to face. He put a hand on her cheek, “You had entered society, become a proper lady, and I didn’t want to harm your chances of meeting others. If I had hovered over you, no one would have talked to you without talking first to me. I wanted to let you make your choices.”

“But I had made my choice, James! I wanted you. And then you were gone.”

They were quiet for a moment. Elizabeth had never realized how much that had hurt. Apparently, there were a lot of things regarding James Norrington she had never realized.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Elizabeth said nothing. Then,

“And letting me think you were dead? Why, James?”

“I want you to be happy, Elizabeth. To find a man who can keep you safe and happy, a man that you love. And I know I’m not that man—“

“James—“

“—I know you don’t love me, but after I lost my ship, I don’t deserve to be happy,” he looked into her eyes and Elizabeth saw overwhelming regret and grief, “I killed those men, Elizabeth. They died because of me. A hurricane, oh God, I took us directly into a _hurricane_ ,” he leaned back and there were tears leaking from his eyes, “You deserve better. After this I will be demoted and a paragon in society. Mothers, brothers, wives, they’ll all blame me for their loved ones dying and they are right to do so. Marriage to me would only condemn you to the same disgrace,” he looked at her, “Marry someone else, Elizabeth. A man not so tainted.”

There was a pause, and then Elizabeth spoke with complete conviction,

“Absolutely not,” James’s eyes flew open to look at her and she continued, “you are my fiancé and I will have none of this nonsense. You are an honorable and kind man, James, and abandoning me is not honorable, despite the story you seem to be telling yourself. You are my fiancé. I wanted you to come back, I waited for you.”

“But don’t you see,” James interrupted her, “now you are free. You don’t love me, let us not pretend otherwise. You can—“

“But I do love you.” The words were said softly, alighting on the breeze with a newness that rivaled the first bud of spring. James let the words sink into his skin, warm him to his very bones, before confronting reality.

“You don’t, Elizabeth. Please don’t lie to me, not about this.”

Elizabeth glared at him at his statement, “Never, in my life, have I taken well to someone telling me what I can and cannot do or feel. I don’t imagine that is going to change right now. I love you, James Norrington. I’ve loved you long enough that it became a simple fact of life. I didn’t recognize it because I never questioned what I felt, only that I felt. I love you and being told that I don’t is most offensive and I’m afraid I must ask you to take those words back.”

James could only stare. Elizabeth loved him. She said it so simply, like the admission cost her nothing. It was presented as a matter of fact, like the color of her eyes or the direction of the tide. She couldn’t imagine how much it cost him to believe it.

“You love me.”

“Yes, you moron. I love you. And you don’t even have to say it back, because I know you love me, so that’s that sorted. Are you done trying to pretend to be dead? Because if you insist on that particular ruse, I’m afraid I’ll have to yell at you again and no one wants that.”

James could hardly keep up. The world was moving too fast, things—even good things—happening too quickly for him to keep track. As a solution, if only to staunch the flow of words, he leaned over and kissed Elizabeth. A proper kiss, the sort he’d been meaning to give her for a long time.

Elizabeth had always feared that when she fell in love, she’d lose her freedom, the little of it she had. She was afraid that bending to someone’s will, her actions led by someone else’s desires, would force her to abandon her own. But as she kissed James, Elizabeth felt her own resolve only strengthen. She was not caged. It wasn’t the freedom that she still longed for, the freedom that the ships in the harbor whispered about in her dreams and even stronger in her memories, but it would—

 

No. It would not do. Elizabeth knew in her heart of hearts that right here, right now, she could resent James forever if she never again had that freedom she’d enjoyed when at sea with a band of pirates. If they married and Elizabeth spent the rest of her life running his house and raising his children and never being her own master, her love would sour until all that was left between them was history and bitterness.

Elizabeth had found her love. Now she had to find her freedom.


End file.
